A/N; A thousand thank you's to my amazing beta-reader BlueBohemian, make sure to read her stories, she truly is a fantastic writer.

Just a little background information on where these drabble's surface from – basically, I work long night shifts over the weekend and I find that when I get in at four A.M, insomnia hits and I'm wide awake, so I take the opportunity to tap away on my laptop and see what Rock You fluff I can produce.

Enjoy.

A small grin twitched on the corner of my lips as I watched her. She was nothing like the others. Her thin, pale arms folded hostilely across her small chest, covering the Rolling Stones motif on the black T-shirt that she wore. I recognized it as one of my own, artfully tied in a knot at the back so that it fit across her thin frame, revealing part of her stomach. It had been torn at the sleeves and hung ever so slightly from one of her shoulders. I knew it hadn't been her handy work at once. After all, she hated her stomach... and her hips.

'Hate my bum, and my legs, quite like my arms- but not my hands!'

I continued to watch her, my lips parting into a smile; I loved every part of her. I lifted my drink to my mouth and drained the last few drops, still not taking my gaze from her awkward stance as she stood behind the bar. Her eyes burned into a group of drunken men who had began a clumsy dance of waving their arms over their heads. Standing up myself I walked over to her end of the bar, giving a nod to Meat as I passed her collecting glasses from the now unoccupied tables.

Scaramouche (for that was who I'd been watching) caught my eye and bit the side of her lip, looking back to the group of men and then to me again, rolling her eyes. I laughed and leant over the bar to where she stood, my hands outstretched to hers. Taking hold of them she stepped forwards, her own hands feeling icy cold in my warm palms. I brought them upwards towards my face and kissed them delicately. "It's two A.M. baby, are you going to ask Pop if you can leave now?"

She made an exasperated face at me and grumbled, "Pop passed out in the cellar half an hour ago. Meat went down to change a barrel and found him fast asleep in the corner."

I grinned, "Well, that's great. So you don't have to ask, you can just leave and he'll be none the wiser-" I trailed off as I watched her face drop into an apologetic expression.

"I can't leave Meat on her own babe," she began to chew her lip, "She'll be here for hours trying to get everyone out and clean up if I bugger off now. I'm going to have to stay till we're done." She broke the contact of our hands and leant forwards on tip-toe, wrapping her arms around my neck and drawing her mouth close to my ear.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as she placed a tender kiss on my neck and murmured, "I'm sorry, Gaz'."

I placed my hands firmly on her hips and gave her a squeeze, "It's fine- though I kind of had plans for us." I shook my head, "Don't worry about it though. Are you okay to come back with Meat?" I pulled backwards and raised an eyebrow, "It's just I'm shattered and if we're not doing anything, I think I'll head back home and catch up on some sleep."

She'd noticed the slight coldness in my tone for she nodded slowly and then added, "I love you, Gazza'," before biting me softly on my bottom lip.

I stroked a hand through her hair and gave her a giddy smile, my stomach turning back flips inside of me, the way it always did when she told me she loved me. "Love you more," I muttered, placing one final kiss on her parted lips. "Be careful coming home, wake me when you get back." I turned towards the door of the Seven Seas of Rhye bar and made my way out into the cold. A soft layer of snow had fallen while I'd been waiting for Scaramouche to finish her shift. I scrunched my nose up at it and hoped that it wouldn't get much thicker before Scaramouche and Meat had to make their way home in it.


It was almost four thirty A.M. when Meat and I arrived back at the Heartbreak Hotel. I gave a wide yawn as I bid Meat goodnight and then carefully picked my way towards the room that Galileo and I shared. He'd asked me to wake him when I'd got home, but I'd decided to let him sleep. He'd been annoyed when I'd had to work late and the last thing I wanted was to start an argument at this time in the morning. I pushed our door open slowly, stopping to wince as it make a loud creaking noise. Standing still and silent for a moment until I was certain I hadn't woken him, I pushed at it again.

As I stepped into the room, I gasped. A wide grin set fast upon my tired face. "Oh Gazza'!" I cooed, as he sat up in our makeshift bed and mirrored my expression of glee.

I couldn't believe how our usually tatty room now looked. When I had left for work the previous day it had been a dingy, messy, dark room. Our clothes scattered across the floor and our music taking up three quarters of the space. Microphones, amplifiers, scores and of course, my guitar took pride place. But now, I scarcely recognized it. Everything had been tidied. Our clothes had been folded into neat piles in the corner, our musical equipment packed away, the floor completely clear except for our mattress.

The entire room was a glow with the soft light of dozens of small candles. Their flames burned low and flickered in the draft that blew through the cracks in our wall. Sat in the midst of it all was Galileo, a bottle of wine on the floor next to him and two wine glasses clutched in his hand. I felt my heart skip a beat as I tried to take everything in.

"I love you, Scaramouche." Galileo outstretched his free hand towards me.

Stepping forwards I took it, letting him pull me down onto the mattress between his legs, wrapping himself and the blankets around me. I held onto him tightly, my head pressed against his warm bare chest. Breathing into him I kissed at his soft skin hungrily, before looking up and meeting his gaze. I felt his chest tense and watched as he winced at the coldness of my skin, though he didn't let go, only clung to me tighter to warm me up.

As he stroked a hand through my tangled hair, I smiled up at him with a besotted look, watching his cheeks flush pink as our eyes met. "I recognize this T-shirt," he told me with a grin, running his fingers inside the nape of the neck, "Though it doesn't look nearly as good on me." I gave a soft laugh and looked away. Even after a year together I still struggled to accept his compliments. "Meat's handy work?" he pulled at the ripped sleeves so that they fell down further from my shoulders. I nodded in reply and lifted my head to kiss at the underneath of his neck. He gasped, the way he always did when I kissed at his neck and then smiled, pulling me closer to him, gripping me tighter.

"I have something for you." He broke the silence and pulled away from me, reaching under his pillows and clasping his fingers around something. He held his closed fist in front of me and stroked his free hand across my cheek as I tried to catch a glimpse of what he held. "I know you detest the whole marriage thing," he pointed out, "so this isn't a proposal, because I know that's not what you want." He opened his clenched fist and revealed a simple silver ring, three small rubies set into the centre of it. Taking it in his fingers, he took my left hand and placed it on my fourth finger. "I knew it would fit you," he laughed, "You have such tiny fingers."

I beamed down at it, wiggling my fingers happily and watching as the light of the candles shimmered from the jewels. "Gaz' it's beautiful!" I exclaimed, flinging my arms around his neck and clinging tightly to him. "It's fantastic, but you didn't need to get it for me..." I suddenly felt a purge of guilt, wondering if I'd perhaps forgotten a significant date.

"Of course I did." He laced his fingers between mine, "It might not be a proposal Scaramouche but I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I love you so much." He looked down earnestly at me, "I just want you to have something to be able to look at and know that even when I'm away, or even when we argue, I still love you every bit as much as I do this very minute, if not more!" he blushed furiously and tried to hide his face over my shoulder.

I pulled back so that I could see him again. "I love you, Galileo Figaro." It was the first time I hadn't chosen to say it in a whisper, or mumble, or shorten his name. God it was worth it, just to see his huge smile and his eyes light up. "I wish I had something that I could give to you..." I bit the inside of my cheek.

"How about returning that T-shirt?" he lowered his voice and pulled me on top of him, not waiting for me to reply. I didn't need to, he already knew my answer. His hand fumbling at the back as he unknotted it, he pulled it swiftly over my head and threw it to one side of the mattress, pressing his skin against mine we embraced, kissing frantically at each other, biting eagerly at each others lips. As he pulled the covers up and over us both, I paused for a second to repeat once again.

"I love you, Galileo Figaro."

"Love you more." It was the only time I ever let him have the last word.